“Oh, fuck. Liam!”
His hand jerked me faster, and he nipped again at my shoulder all the way up to my neck, where his body tensed and froze around me. His cock pumped with his orgasm, and the combination of mental and physical pleasure of it sent my climax hurtling out in five powerful ropes, splashing over my chest.
Our rapid breaths slowly calmed, and Quinn drew his arm tight around me for a moment until his cock slipped out and he rolled back to take care of the condom.
A kiss met the back of my head, and air stirred as Quinn got up and left the room. He came back a minute later with a warm washcloth.
“How are you doing?” he asked, and wiped my chest clean.
I flexed my ass. “Tender, but I’m thankful for it.”
He laughed, and strategically folded the washcloth and placed it on his bedside table. The bed dipped and bowed as Quinn lay down again and folded the blankets around us from the sides. “I’m thankful for you too.”
He kissed my cheek and rearranged himself so he stared up. The sunlight blotting through the tree and into the window made shadows play across the cream ceiling.
He said quietly, “I’m sorry for our beginning, though. I should never have made assumptions about you before I knew you. The strange thing is, even when I was saying them, I still felt this thing.”
“Thing?”
“The thing that led to the pathetic crush.”
“Attraction, you mean?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Since reading your first description of me in that damn notebook.”
“If I had it here right now, I’d jot down a few other adjectives. You’re really quite the sight.”
Quinn rolled over suddenly, fanning cool air between us. He turned back with a pen. “Go ahead.”
I shifted onto my side and took the pen, pressing the tip on his arm. In cursive, I wrote:
Disheveled. Rakish.
And then, thinking of the sex we’d just had:
Strong. Safe. Tender.
The pen slipped when Quinn spoke: “Hunter gave me more details about the idea for your article.”
I continued withConsiderate.
“I think he’s right. You should do it.”
“I was going to, anyway,” I said, and after a moment added, “but it makes things... better that you’re okay with it.”
He stilled his hand over mine on the pen and drew it away, shifting to hold my gaze. “Remember when I came to this apartment the first time and you told me it belongs to your dad?”
“Yes.”
“You said there were no hurt feelings hidden anywhere. That it is what it is. But it’s not, is it?”
So Hunter had spilled more than details about the article. “No, it’s not.”
Quinn glanced to the dancing shadows and back. “I’m sorry, Liam.”
I rolled over him to the side of the bed and shrugged. Quinn tried to grab me, but I dodged him. It was time I get up and get on with the day, anyway. “He’ll get to know me,” I said as I slipped my robe over my shoulders. “I’ll score that position.” And then—more to myself than to Quinn—I said, “I’m not going to fail.”
The Friday following Thanksgiving weekend,Hunter rang. “Wish me luck on my date.”
